Distant Stars
by ncfan
Summary: Star Wars drabbles and oneshots.
1. Oh, So You Knew

**Title**: Oh, So You Knew**  
>CharactersPairings**: Luke, Leia**  
>AN**: This will be the first chapter of a drabble series. The drabbles will be anything from the serious to the ridiculous; anything from canon to more AU than you can shake a stick at. Updates will be sporadic—anywhere from three a day to three a month—and I would really appreciate feedback and requests if you have them (please only use characters from the movies or the live-action series; I'm not all that familiar with the EU). For now, I beg your forgiveness because I don't have RoTJ on hand so I can't quite remember word for word how this exchange went.**  
>Disclaimer<strong>: I don't own Star Wars.

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><p>"I… know." Leia's eyes are wide-open and glazed as she digs into memory. "Somehow, I've always known."<p>

For himself, Luke's eyebrows choose this moment to shoot up not only into his hairline but into infinity as well.

Here's the situation: Luke has just outed himself and Leia as twins, and Leia's response? _"I've always known."_

He can only think of one thing to say in a situation like this.

"Oh, so you _knew_ I was your brother when you stuck your tongue down my throat on Hoth?" Luke asks, only one of his eyebrows raised now and a half-amused, half-disturbed expression on his face.

Leia rolls her eyes and shakes her head. With her hands on her hips, she takes an abrupt turn from rustic peasant girl back to the imperious, no-nonsense princess he's always known. "Not like _that_, laser brain. You're as bad as Han sometimes."

Luke just shrugs and smiles. She did say that, after all.


	2. Interesting History Lesson

**Title**: Interesting History Lesson**  
>CharactersPairing**: Bail, Sabé, Leia**  
>AN**: This is in the same universe as my oneshot _Too Late to Say Goodbye_.**  
>Disclaimer<strong>: I don't own Star Wars.

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><p>"You know, in the old days a Nabooan handmaiden was to commit ritual suicide if her mistress was murdered and she failed to protect her."<p>

This comes cleanly out of the blue and thus it takes a moment for Bail to register. Frankly, Sabé doesn't start random conversations all that often and she doesn't start off on tangents. Especially not within earshot of young Leia, who is currently playing in the garden.

When Bail does register what she just said, a cold weight settles in his stomach and he looks at the woman who sits beside him on the bench. "That's… interesting."

"Yes." Sabé's tone is unbearably nonchalant. She shields her eyes against the blazing afternoon sun; a thin sheen of perspiration forms on her high forehead. "They would usually gather their clothes away from their belly and disembowel themselves with a short sword. If they didn't want to do that, there was an herb they could take that would cause heart failure in five minutes… after they spent those five minutes in convulsions, of course."

"Of course," Bail echoes. Considering what happened to Padmé five years ago, he really doesn't like where this is going.

The silence is overwhelming for a moment and the heat angrily buzzes in Bail's ears. After a while, he looks at Sabé and, decidedly apprehensive, says, "And you…"

A sharp, bitter laugh cuts the air in two. "No need to fret, Senator. The practice fell out of common use three hundred years ago—then again, I think it may have been four hundred; I'm not quite sure. Something about it being inhumane and that a handmaiden still had a use as a bodyguard even after her mistress was dead." Her eyes cloud over. "I have no use for suicide, Senator; I have a charge to look after.

"In the old days, a handmaiden was bonded to her mistress for life. She never married, never had children and never left her mistress's service. When her mistress died, whatever the cause, she was expected to die with her, if not by suicide—" Sabé smoothes down her skirt "—then by being sealed up in her tomb with her. From there, it was either starvation or suicide."

"Oh." Bail isn't entirely sure what to say to this; he knew Sabé was a morbid woman, but _really_, and where Leia could possibly hear her too. "What an interesting history lesson," he finally manages, not looking at Sabé.

Sabé stands and smirks slightly. "Yes, I suppose it was." Then, at Leia's insistent urging, she steps out into the sun to join her, her black skirt billowing in the breeze.


	3. Pinch Me

**Title**: Pinch Me**  
>CharactersPairings**: Obi-Wan, Anakin**  
>AN**: Humor ahoy.**  
>Disclaimer<strong>: I don't own _Star Wars_.

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><p><em>Someone pinch me; I'm sure I must be dreaming.<em>

Normally, Obi-Wan Kenobi would consider such a thing too melodramatic to touch on in speech or even thought. He likes to think he has a bit more dignity than that—he's not an actor after all, and even actors sound a little silly when they say things like that.

However, this is a perfectly reasonable excuse to be using that hackneyed line, for Anakin has just broken the laws of reality yet again.

How has everyone's favorite bratty Padawan managed this, you ask? By actually meditating without complaint or having to be told to by his Master. Anyone witnessing this spectacle with some knowledge of the offender's background would have to agree that this is an earth-shattering event.

"Anakin…"

The eleven-year-old opens one blue eyes with something like annoyance written on his face. "Yes, Master?"

Obi-Wan stares at him. "You're meditating. Calmly."

Anakin nods with starkly uncharacteristic calm. "Yes Master, I am."

If this is a dream, it's a pleasant one. Obi-Wan decides that if he's sleeping, he wouldn't mind staying asleep for a few more hours, so he sits down by Anakin and they both meditate.


	4. A Different Slavery

**Title**: A Different Slavery**  
>CharactersPairings**: Anakin**  
>AN**: One wonders if he really felt this way.**  
>Disclaimer<strong>: I don't own Star Wars.

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><p>Anakin lives in slavery for the first nine years of his life and when he meets Qui-Gon Jinn it seems for all the world as though this man is his ticket to freedom. The Jedi are creatures of legend, immortal warriors who wield blades of light. Surely they are free from all harm; there is no slavery that can entrap a Jedi, Anakin tells himself.<p>

And so he manages to convince himself for the next six months.

But then, one morning, he looks in the mirror.

Anakin has only a small mirror in his quarters; Jedi are not permitted large mirrors or mirrors of any passable quality (vanity is of the Dark Side, after all). He stares into his small, round face, and the Padawan braid clinks at his side.

It lays like lead against his shoulder, and Anakin realizes what he's traded slavery on Tatooine for.

A mark that signals him as different from everyone else. Labor and pain. A feeling of injustice, constantly on the verge of overwhelming him. A world that forbids him from seeing his mother. A man he calls 'Master'.

Jedi are as much slaves as the thralls of Tatooine. They just call him 'Padawan' here.


	5. I Think This is Called Murder

**Title**: I Think This is Called Murder**  
>CharactersPairings**: C-3PO**  
>AN**: It's a little AU, but what can you do?**  
>Disclaimer<strong>: I don't own Star Wars.

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><p>"<em>Have the protocol droid's mind wiped."<em>

"What?" C-3PO demands, but no one pays him any heed as one of the Alderaani workers leads him away. No one ever does. "Oh dear," he exclaims tremulously, his wires once more feeling like they're going to curl and shrivel.

Behind him, R2-D2 giggles, if an astromech can giggle. C-3PO glowers at him (if a protocol droid can glower) as he's led away. R2's never had his mind wiped. He can't possibly understand.

_They will take everything from me. If I was a flesh and blood being I think they would call this murder._

C-3PO doesn't want to forget anything. The times have been perilous and traumatic, but he doesn't want to forget any of it. Who would? Who would possibly want to forget their friends, their kind masters, their experiences, any of it?

In the end though, he doesn't have a choice. C-3PO is not by nature disrespectful of authority and he shall do what he is told; _It's in my wires, I suppose._

It's quick, at least, and of course, C-3PO won't remember any of it.

His very last thoughts are _so _predictable: _"But why does it have to be me; why does it have to be_—"

"Hello, my name is C-3PO, human-cyborg relations…"


	6. No More Corsets

**Title**: No More Corsets**  
>CharactersPairings**: Padmé, Sabé, Leia (mentioned)**  
>AN**: Just so you guys know, I am still accepting requests, though I tell you: only ask for characters from either the movies or the two animated series. Oh, the comment about Sabé not liking corsets should ring a bell for those of you who know who played her in TPM.**  
>Disclaimer<strong>: I don't own Star Wars.

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><p>"You know, I swear the first use of these things were as a torture device," Padmé remarks, groaning in protest as Sabé tightens the corset around her mistress's chest.<p>

From her position behind her, Sabé frowns and shakes her head. "You're only saying that because you're pregnant and your breasts are sore, my Lady. You're relatively fond of corsets most of the time." Her tone is tense as she knots it tighter, trying to smooth away the slight bump that's appeared on Padmé's formerly flat belly; the red gown Padmé is wearing to the dinner is tight-fitting and no one must be able to see the bump.

Padmé curls her lip as Sabé finishes lacing up the corset. "Do I really have to wear this?"

Not without sympathy (unlike Padmé, Sabé has _never _liked corsets), Sabé shrugs. "For tonight yes. After tonight though, you'll probably have to stop and start wearing loose gowns and robes instead. We can probably hide everything short of your face and hands swelling up like balloons," she remarks with a noticeable—and rare—inflection of wicked humor in her voice.

The Senator glares. "Oh, thank you _so_ much for that Sabé; that was precisely the image I wanted in my head while I'm having dinner with Bail and the other members of the Delegation of 2000."

"At your service, as ever, my Lady Amidala." Sabé adjusts her silken sleeve cuffs and goes to remove the chosen gown from the wardrobe. "My Lady, when your daughter is born we must tell her never to wear corsets."

Padmé groans. "She won't have any reason to argue with that; I'll make sure of it."


	7. Avoid the Thirteenth Floor

**Title**: Avoid the Thirteenth Floor**  
>CharactersPairings**: Leia, Obi-Wan**  
>AN**: This is AU, just so everyone knows.**  
>Dedication<strong>: Dedicated to **lealila**.**  
>Disclaimer<strong>: I don't own Star Wars.

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><p>Leia's been told not to venture onto this particular floor of the palace, but she's a curious girl and anyone in the Galaxy can tell you that the best way to ensure a child will do something is to tell them not to do it. Such is the case now.<p>

Upon entering the thirteenth floor, Leia coughs and holds her hand up against her face. "So much dust," she mutters, eyeing the dusty walls and tables with disdain. "The maid service must not go to this floor." Her eyes narrow. "I wonder why."

Though the hall shows no sign of decay (apart from all the dust), Leia is sure no one's lived here in years. The place has an aura of neglect about it; no laughter has lit these halls, no footsteps have clattered against the floors in so long that the very walls seem to ache from solitude.

Just as she's convincing herself that the place is deserted, a door opens halfway down the hall and Leia jumps, despite herself.

A human man of middle years steps out of the door and stares at her, eyebrows raised. He has graying hair and bluish eyes, and Leia starts to back up, all her usual obstinate courage gone from her.

"Umm, hello." Leia smiles wide, and opens the door of the lift. "I'll just be leaving, sorry to have bothered you."

Before the man can call her back, she is gone.

_Okay, note to self: avoid the thirteenth floor in future, because of ghosts, or living hermits._


End file.
